orange umbrella

There is an analog beeping. A scratching. Intermittent with no rhythm. I'm letting music play loud in my earphones not to hear it. Everyone is so friendly to me. Yet I feel uneasy. I don't know how to save another person. It's so big, I can't surround it or I'll blow up. My principles are disoriented and no more. There is a flexibility which requires going beyond what's safe. It makes a person ready for the next pose long before he's understood. It defies feeling where, being present for another person used to be the answer to everything and now it could mean the opposite. I'm not familiar with how to make it better.  I'm not familiar with the guilt. I'm not familiar. All the while, always, an underlying current runs eternally undisturbed by the chaos of form. It is known. Unifying. Even if I don't want to hear it. Even if I do everything to find noise. Even if wave after wave crashes on top of my head as I'm about to rise. The only resolution is to keep going, hungry for life like an uncaged spirit.